<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Mad Screams of an Unexpected Friendship by Jerevinan</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014136">Mad Screams of an Unexpected Friendship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan'>Jerevinan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tales of Xillia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Friendship, Gen, Poetry, Tea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:41:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30014136</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wingul tracks an important book's sale to a certain manor in Sharilton.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wingul &amp; Driselle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tales of Prompts</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mad Screams of an Unexpected Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/talesofpromptssfw">talesofpromptssfw</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Wingul has been tracking a rare copy of "Mad Screams of Love" for a while, but it unfortunately got snatched by another buyer before he had a chance to meet the peddler. He decides to pay the buyer a visit, and they bond over their literary analysis of the Conductor's poetry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The search for a rare copy of <i>Mad Screams of Love</i> had taken Wingul first to Xian Du to speak with the merchant who possessed a rare copy of this poetry compilation, and now he was standing in front of the Sharil manor. </p><p>How would he handle this situation? As a tactician, of course.</p><p>First, he would ask nicely. <i>Can I borrow your copy of </i>Mad Screams of Love<i> long enough to read it? </i></p><p>If Driselle Sharil did not agree, he would… What would he do? Threaten her and create a diplomatic incident for Gaius? Never. Maybe if he took note of the locks on the doors and windows, studied the guard shifts, and paid attention to when all the lights went out in the manor, he could slip in undetected and read it sometime after hours. Yes, if he were caught, that would also create a diplomatic incident. But he was no stranger to sneaking in and out of places. Wingul would have to be especially careful.</p><p>But first, civility, and less breaking-and-entering. </p><p>He announced his presence to the guards and requested an audience with Driselle. Within minutes, he was permitted inside.</p><p>Wingul had never met Driselle Sharil, but he approved of her instantly. Following her brother’s death, she stepped up to her leadership admirably, and that was a quality he commended in others. </p><p>“Welcome, Wingul,” she said, taking his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you!” </p><p><i>How?</i> Should he be suspicious of this charismatic young woman and her penchant for pink? No, even if the Chimeriad didn’t flaunt their identities, it would be expected that someone of her high office would learn all she could about leaders and their retainers.</p><p>Wingul had no reason to be alarmed yet. </p><p>“Pleasure to meet you,” he said with a firm shake. “I’ve come to ask you about a book that has recently come into your possession.”</p><p>She tipped her head to the side, her ponytail swinging. “Oh? And what book is that?”</p><p>He mumbled the words fast. Writing jingles about his secret lust for kingly ass cheeks through food innuendos was a lot easier, it turned out, than having to talk about romantic poetry with a stranger. “Madscreamsoflove.”</p><p>“Come again?” Was he mistaken, or was she <i>enjoying</i> his discomfort?</p><p>No, Wingul was not the kind to be embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “Rowen Ilbert wrote a volume of poetry contained within—”</p><p>“Oh, that!” She clapped her hands together and nodded toward a sitting area. “Would you like some tea?”</p><p>“Yes, please.” Tea was a language he could understand. </p><p>She summoned a maid and arranged for them to have tea and something light to eat. He hoped that she hadn’t meant cookies or cakes—he would have preferred sandwiches or crackers. Sweets, especially chilled ones, were more to Gaius’ tastes.</p><p>“I’ll get the book. You want to see it, right?”</p><p>Wingul nodded. “Yes, please.”</p><p>Driselle disappeared up the stairs of the manor while Wingul made himself comfortable in a chair. He stared into a glass-fronted cabinet in the corner, noting that Driselle had a whole collection of different handmade teacups and fancy plates. One of the plates on display had one of Sharilton’s famous windmills painted on it. </p><p>When Driselle returned, she held a book pressed to her chest. It was thick, and its true title was <i>The Complete Tactician</i>. Wingul first encountered a copy amongst the Long Dau library during his childhood, but he overlooked the additional volume of <i>Mad Screams of Love</i> at the end as something unimportant, trivial. That copy was unlikely to have survived. A re-read of the main content was overdue—Wingul had a good memory, but it had still been a few years.</p><p>“You can learn a lot about someone by their poetry,” said Driselle, taking a seat across from Wingul. She lowered the book into her lap and gingerly spread it open. “I’m still making my way through the rest, but I’ve already read all the poetry. I’m learning about a new side of Rowen. He’s a true knight, if this is the way he views the love of his life.”</p><p>Wingul resisted the urge to snatch the book away and find out exactly what she meant.</p><p>He didn’t need to. Driselle was more than willing to share, and she recited: </p><p>
  <i>“Oh, My Sweetest Peach Pie!<br/>
The vestiges of war return me to your side<br/>
To the warm embrace of your bosom.<br/>
I drink in your company like wine<br/>
And lap it from your silky skin<br/>
Its flavor exquisite<br/>
As expected only from a lady<br/>
As refined as you.”</i>
</p><p>Driselle wasn’t even blushing. This one… She was to be feared. Cline had been revered as kind, and many described his sister as having the same virtues. But underneath that sweet smile and light voice existed a headstrong leader who kept a poker face when quoting cringy poetry.</p><p>Wingul could only imagine her at meetings, never giving way to emotions, never showing all her cards. Not unexpected for a young woman who must have fallen under Rowen’s tutelage during his time as her family’s butler. Rowen had turned her into a fellow tactician, likely in subtle ways. </p><p>“Everyone is young once,” she said cheerfully. “Would you like to read it? It isn’t long, but the book can’t leave my sight.”</p><p>“Of course. Thank you.” The desire to read more of Rowen’s terrible poetry had left Wingul, but he would gain something greater if he suffered through the rest: leverage. </p><p>Driselle held the book over the low table and passed it to him. It wasn’t in the best of shape, but the paper quality and the craftsmanship of the binding kept the copy sturdy. It mostly suffered from dints and dirty hands pawing at the cover—probably neglect at the hands of early merchants and owners who had no idea of the rarity of the book at the time of its first and only publication.</p><p>Tea arrived, and Driselle sipped contently as she watched him read. He barely paid attention to any of the treats on the platter, but he did drink his tea as he learned a great deal about Rowen’s abuse of euphemisms for genitalia. The secondhand embarrassment nearly made Wingul squirt hot tea from his nose mid-read on several occasions over the next hour. </p><p>“Do you mind if I come back to read the good part of this volume?” asked Wingul, when he was certain he had overstayed his welcome. <i>The Complete Tactician </i>deserved his full attention, and his mind was too busy gleefully wondering how he could slip in references to Rowen’s poetry the next time they spoke. “I haven’t read it in a long time.”</p><p>“I’d love that,” said Driselle. “Schedule an appointment, and I’ll make sure to have tea ready. I’ll even prepare food you like.” Ah, so she’d noticed he avoided all the cakes and cookies on the platter. “What is your favorite snack?”</p><p>“Gaius dumplings.”</p><p>Driselle’s eyes widened, brows raised high, and a smile twitched at the corner of her lips. “I’ll make sure to have some ready.”</p><p>They set a date for Wingul’s next visit before he left. To Wingul’s horror, he caught himself reciting some of the lines of poetry in his head, humming new tunes to turn them into lyrics.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Only respect for my queen, Lady Driselle</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>